Italics are flashback
"Healing," Papa would tell me, "is not a science, but the intuitive art of wooing nature."
- W.H. Auden
London Heathrow Airport, being the world's fifth busiest airport, would have been crowded on the best of days. So, the fact that it was a week before Christmas, and the busiest time of year to travel, navigating the international terminal was a head-ache inducing battle. The people that filled the building ranged from black-suited businessmen to frazzled mothers dragging their various sized broods by the hand, all in some sort of desperate rush to get to some place or another.
It felt almost surreal actually, being the only still figure in the swarming sea of holiday goers. It was like being in a bubble where time stood still, but watching the world outside keep on going, at an unusually rapid pace.
That is, if it weren't for the dirty looks and muttered comments directed his way, because goodness knows that the simple act of walking around a man who measured roughly a foot and a half wide took so much time out of their day.
And once again L was reminded exactly why he never went outside unless it was absolutely necessary.
Turning his gaze back to the clock that hung at eye-level on the opposite wall, L let out a weary sigh. He longed desperately to be back at Wammy House with only his computer as company. Oh, and a nice big slice of cheesecake. Strawberry, with white chocolate whipped-topping, and some of that new tea that Roger had brought back for him from India.
That sounded a hundred, no, a thousand times better than standing here, counting down the seconds until he would have to stroll down the stairs to the arrivals lounge where the object of many sleepless nights would be waiting for him.
1:59.58…1:59.59…2:00.
Well, there was no avoiding it now. The plane was due in at 2:00pm and L absolutely hated tardiness; he believed it said all sorts of negative things about a person's nature. For one it said they were disrespectful. And lazy, and forgetful and…
And now he was stalling. Fisting his hands deeper into his pockets, L made his way toward the staircase that lay directly before him. Each step felt like a hundred meter drop, each holding the same heart-clenching sensation. He knew that it was ridiculous. He had faced countless things that where incomparably frightening. Ruthless mass murderers, rapists, conmen, mob-bosses, all professional criminals, and he had defeated each without feeling a moments worth of fear.
After all, logically, he had nothing to fear from the slight figure that had just come into view in front of him. Nothing to fear from a six year-old girl, and especially nothing to fear from his flesh and blood, his own daughter.
His daughter. The thought was still foreign to him, even after six years, two months and fifteen days.
And 5 and a half hours.
But his daughter she was, although the only visible evidence of the fact was the unruly black hair that she had inherited from him. Hair that appeared to have been tamed into braided pigtails. There were pale blue ribbons wound into the ebony locks that L assumed had been done by her aunt.
One of the braids had come undone at the end sometime during the twelve-hour flight, giving her a rather lopsided look. She stood beside the attendant who had accompanied her, a kind-looking middle-aged woman who appeared to be scanning the crowd for L. He sighed again. No sense in wasting anymore time.
He approached the pair in his usual shuffling manner, not thinking until too late to stand up straight and actually tryto look like someone trustworthy enough to had off a child to. No matter, the woman didn't look that bright, and he would have no problem convincing her that he was indeed this girl's father.
Father, him, another foreign idea.
He needn't have worried apparently, because the moment the child saw him, her entire face lit up with a radiant sort of joy that L was completely unaccustomed to. It seemed that even though she had not seen him for almost two years, and he had left her no photos, she was able to recognize him.
But L kept his eyes averted, instead he focused on the woman behind her, who was still in the process of turning her expression of shock at his appearance to an uneasy smile.
Eventually she spoke. "Hello, you must be Mr-"
"Holmes, yes" L interrupted rather rudely.
She seemed slightly taken aback at his abrupt tone, but covered it surprisingly well. "All right, as soon as the luggage comes about I'll leave you-"
"That will not be necessary, you may leave now"
"Oh it's alright, I don't min-"
"It is unnecessary"
"bu-"
L fixed his unblinking eyes firmly on the now flustered woman " A cheque for the agreed upon amount will arrive at your residence within three days, your assistance is no longer required, goodbye" leaving no room for further argument, he turned toward the carousal and proceeded to ignore the two females as the older bid farewell to the younger, and with one more hesitant glance back at L the woman disappeared into the milling crowd.
He could feel the girl's gaze on him. A sort of warn electricity spread along his left jaw, and he knew that if he looked down at her, he would find her wide brown eyes staring up full of expectation. That was what had truly inspired the nervous clenching of his heart for the past month and a half. The idea that he would have to keep this tiny thing alive and entertained for the next week was absolutely ludicrous. This was a task that could not be solved by his ridiculous IQ alone, there were no classes or manuals for being a father.
But first things first. Taking a deep breath, and utilizing the ancient Chinese Ki-Kou breathing technique for a minute, L addressed the empty air in front of him. "Tell me what your bag looks like".
The reply was so enthusiastic, that L was momentarily stunned into silence. "It'sreallyreallypretty!GrammyandGrandpaboughtitforme!-"
Regaining control of his vocal cords, L halted the girl's sudden case of verbal diarrhea 6 year-old Japanese fangirl style. "Yes I see it now".
Hefting the sickeningly cute rolling luggage off the trolley, L turned to go, not bothering to check if the child followed.
She did, of course. She trudged on beside him and spoke up, thankfully slower this time. "I can pull it myself you know," she said, a ring of childish pride at being able to perform such a mundane act coloured her words "I did it before".
She obviously expected him to hand her the luggage, and perhaps praise her when she was indeed able to pull it herself. "No" he replied "I will carry it".
He was replied when she didn't insist, and glanced over his shoulder at her. Her head hung in mild dejection, and her dark bangs fell into her eyes, shielding them from his view. Small shoulders hunched in an uncanny imitation of her father's trademark slouch, she scuffed her feet and fell behind him longer strides.
L turned back in annoyance. Drawing level with her, he reached out and grasped her sweater between his thumb and forefinger. Satisfied that this way he avoided direct contact with her skin, he dragged the pouting girl toward the exit.
It was snowing outside, fat white flakes drifted lazily in the breeze, adding to the already large snow banks that bordered the parking lot. Now that they were clear of the crowd, L released his hold on the girl only to find a minute later that she had halted completely. Annoyed, he strode back, wondering exasperatedly if this was going to be how it was for the next week, but he stopped in his tracks.
Her head was tilted up to the clouded sky. Mouth open, her tongue glinted pink as it darted out to catch a passing flake.
And her eyes.
They glowed at him across the pavement, a warm, painfully familiar brown.
She spun in a circle, long brown hair falling over her shoulders like a waterfall of silk. The snow that landed on her head and shoulders steadily piling up. She gazed around at the field of white with an uncharacteristic expression of awe on her beautiful features.
It didn't snow much in her part of Japan. Only a few centimeters a year. The storm last night had come out of nowhere, and dumped more snow on the countryside than she had probably ever seen in her life.
"Raito, come inside, you'll freeze out there!" he called weakly, knowing from the look she shot at him that his pleas were useless.
And lo and behold she shook her head stubbornly and pranced off even further.
"No way, you come out here!" L groaned internally from his spot in the doorway. He hated cold weather. The wet-cold sunk deep into his bones and took a good half hour of hot chocolate by the fire to fully dispel. And for that period of time his reasoning ability dropped by at least eleven percent.
But who was he to deny her requests? Huffing childishly he grabbed his thick jacket, as well as Raito's that she had neglected to put on in her excitement at seeing to snow. He then proceeded to shove his bare feet into what he not so lovingly referred to as 'those damn snow boots'.
Trudging through the good foot of evil white powder, L threw Raito's jacket towards her. "At least put on a coat" he tried to order, but it just came out sounding like a plea.
She smirked at his unhappy face, but slipped the jacket on anyway. " I don't understand why you hate it so much" she complained gazing off into the surrounding forest "I think it's beautiful.
He mumbled his petty reasons, but she didn't appear to have heard. She tipped her face back and received a particularly large snowflake. Grinning impishly at him she breathed dreamily "It tastes like sky"
The joy in her brown eyes took his breath away..
His heart lurched painfully, and he thought for a moment that he'd be sick.
"Niri!" he snapped, a distressed sort of panic rising in his voice "Don't do that!"
She jumped and stared at him, startled and perhaps a bit frightened at his tone. "But why" she asked confused.
'Because, because you look so much like her it hurts'
"Because" he answered pathetically "there are countless harmful toxins in the snow, it will make you ill"
Turning away from his daughter, it was all that L to restrain himself from running to the car and drive away leaving this small person who had her eyes behind.
Running was all he seemed capable of doing these days.
A/N: and yet again I have started ANOTHER multi-chapter fic before finishing, let alone updating my others. I'm a bad person.
Well, as I hope was obvious, this is a Genderswap L/Raito AU. Normally I'm not so big on these type of stories, but I've read a few decent ones, and this plot was planted in my brain, and I'm actually pretty happy with it so far.
I named the kid Niri mainly just because it fits in with my picture of her. Then I looked up the name meaning and it's apparently a Hebrew name that means 'My Burning Light' and it just made it that much more perfect.
PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! (and point out any mistakes)
Thanks for reading!
